Black left the body of Bustan where it lay, retrieved his mobile, and went back through to the lounge. They would have heard the gunshots, killing Bustan. The man and woman were sitting together on a couch, clutching hands. When Black entered, they regarded him with fearful eyes. No wonder. He’d known them less than thirty minutes, and he’d killed four men. The interpreter – Aksoy – was sitting on a chair opposite. He jumped when the door opened. His eyes darted from Black to the pistol Black was holding.
“You’re right,” Black said. “Bustan won’t be paying you this evening. Nor indeed ever again.”
Aksoy nodded. “I understand.”
“You’re learning fast. The police will be here soon. Gunshots and screams don’t go unnoticed. You’ll tell them what was happening here. You’ll speak for these people.”
“You don’t have to worry about the police,” replied Aksoy.
Black said nothing.
“Because,” continued Aksoy, “Bustan owns the block. The flats on either side, and below. No one lives in them. He arranged it that way, in case there should be trouble…” Aksoy faltered, said, “…like this.”
“Smart. The money he made from Remus outweighed the hit he took on empty flats. But he won’t care about such matters now.” Black sat on another chair, the pistol resting on his lap. The man and woman stared at him. “Tell them I intend to find their children.”
Aksoy immediately translated.
“Tell them I’ll die trying.” Aksoy turned him a curious look, as if to say, You’re serious?
Black was serious, and Aksoy knew it. He translated.
The woman buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shook.
Welcome to Bustan’s world, thought Black. Welcome to paradise.
“You’ll stay with them, Aksoy, until I return with their children. Reassure them.”
“And if you don’t return?”
Black said nothing.
“What happens then? Once you return?”
“Then you go your way.” Black’s voice lowered. “But meantime you stay with them. If you leave them before I get back, I’ll hunt you down and I’ll kill you. If you call any of Bustan’s gang, I’ll kill you. In fact, if you do anything other than give these people some comfort, I’ll kill you. That’s the deal. This is your lucky night, Aksoy. You don’t get to die, unlike all your friends. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Completely.”
“Excellent.”
Black was dog-tired. Long night. With a bit to go yet. He sat back. The view from where he sat, looking out through the bay windows, was bleak. The opposite tenement block, aglow with the sickly orange shimmer from the street lamps, the night sky a blanket of low cloud. His thoughts drifted to a student’s room in Aberdeen, of a pretty young girl dying in his arms. And inevitably, to another scene, years back. Cradling his murdered daughter and wife, soaked in their blood. His fault. All his fault.
Death was never far from Adam Black.
He adjusted his thoughts.
He was death.
They sat in silence. Black was aware all eyes were fixed on him. Probably wondering what the hell he was going to do next. He didn’t quite know himself. Keep moving. Bring the war to them. Bring chaos to the world of his enemies. It was hardly a structured plan, but it was all he had.
Bustan’s phone suddenly pinged. Black swiped the screen.
I’m outside.
Black allowed himself a cold smile.
Game on.